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Mr. Shale stopped his car along the side of the road. They
were on Highway 3, in a desolate strip surrounded by a vast forest preserve on either
side. Jack Shale looked at his passenger, Claire, the fifteen-year old girl who had
watched his son and daughter for him tonight while he was out having dinner with his
wife.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Shale?"'
"Get in the backseat, Claire," he said, his voice having
taken on a commanding tone, devoid of all weakness. That was the hardest part, for
this was a moment of great intensity. What Claire would do now that he had given the
order would dictate the way the rest of the night went.
Sometimes they tried to run. The first runner had really
pissed off Jack, because he liked blowjobs. He refused to put his cock in the mouth
of a girl who was desperate to escape him. He had chased that first runner into the
woods, caught up with her, pushed her into a tree. He had fucked her mouth a bit
while she was unconscious, but it was nothing like the real thing. Anyway, she had
been a nice piece of ass, screaming and crying as he raped her six ways from Sunday.
After that Mr. Shale had been more cautious. He always kept
the child-lock on, making it impossible to open the door from inside. Both backseats
and the passenger seat had this switch. The windows were electric, so only the most
desperate of victims could escape. He hadn't yet had a girl break any windows.
Claire sat still, nervously glancing up at Jack's grim
expression. She was beautiful. Mr. Shale gently ran a hand through her blonde hair.
He leaned his head back against his headrest. "Just get in the back, Claire, please,"
he said, stressing the 'please'.
Claire wasn't a fighter. That was one of the reasons he'd
chosen her. His last one had been a fighter. They sometimes wore him out. Claire tried
to open the door. Not desperately, but hopefully. The handle gave way, but the desired
effect was missing. She looked back at Mr. Shale, a liquid fear floating in her erotic
pale blue eyes. Was she caught?
"Just climb back between the seats," Mr. Shale said softly,
willing to pretend that he truly believed that had she opened that door she would have
obediently stepped around to the back and gotten back into his car.
Claire managed to squeeze herself into the little space
between the front seats. Mr. Shale watched her in his rearview mirror. As she climbed,
her small white skirt lifted up, revealing cute pink panties.
"Claire, you've done a good job so far," he assured her. "I
think you know that you don't have to get hurt tonight. When we're done I can take you
home and you can just never think about this night again. Or I can leave you on the
side of the road, severely injured, and without your tongue or your hands. I'm willing
and prepared to follow through with both of these options tonight, Claire.
"All I need to know is which one you prefer. The answer is in
whether - in the next fifteen seconds - I see your clothes up here in the front seat.
All of them, except your socks. If that happens, you can go home tonight with all your
body parts intact."
Mr. Shale closed his eyes and started counting to fifteen.
"One . . . two . . . "
He heard rustling in the backseat.
"Three . . . four . . . "
Grunted and hurried movements. Something being flung past his
right shoulder.
"Five . . . six . . . seven . . . "
"Okay!"
"Eight . . . "
"Mr. Shale! I'm done. Please."
Mr. Shale opened his eyes and looked at the clothes in his
front seat: shoes, skirt, blouse, pink panties, white bra.
"Please, just don't hurt me," Claire's soft voice floated up
to the front like clouds from Heaven.
Jack Shale slid his seat back a few inches to make more room
to turn around. Claire was on the seat behind the passenger seat, her knees bent up to
her chin, her arms tightly holding them to her.
Jack climbed into the backseat, vividly recalling another
mistake learned the hard way. He had taken his clothes off in the front seat, and in
the awkward move from front to back, a fighter had taken the opportunity to kick his
erect cock. It had been a good kick. He had to smash her face into the window and hold
her down against the seat for twenty minutes while the pain subsided.
That had been a difficult night. His dick was tender afterward,
so shoving it into her dry cunt was out of the question. But he'd proven victorious: he
made her cum even as she cried and held her broken nose. Her pussy juice even tasted
frightened. But she was wet, and so he was able to fuck her softly, enjoying her sobs
since he couldn't enjoy the screeches some girls made when he fucked them very hard.
He'd cum on her broken nose and in her already tearing eyes.
It wasn't his favorite place to cum, but the pain and blindness made it easier for him
to take her into the woods. His anger hadn't been sated by then, however, so he had to
make use of some thick tree branches on her unlubricated asshole. He would have
preferred it was his cock, but that night it was impossible.
But Mr. Shale did learn from his mistakes. He climbed into the
backseat with Claire fully dressed. His black jeans were no real protection from such a
kick, but without the obvious erection dangling in their faces, most girls wouldn't
think to try such a move.
Besides, Claire wasn't a fighter. He could see that by the way
she had curled herself up in a ball and simply stared at him with those gentle blue
eyes. Now settled in the back, Mr. Shale pushed his seat up as far as it would go,
giving him only a little more space. He kicked off his shoes and made quick work of
slipping from his pants. His black turtleneck shirt came off next, and the three items
were placed in the front seat.
Claire was looking at his erection. Seven inches. Nothing to
brag about, but not bad. Anyway, thought Mr. Shale, it's not the size that matters,
it's how you use it. He wondered what Claire might think of that.
"Do you know what I want, Claire?" Jack asked.
She took a moment to respond. "Not exactly," her voice cracked.
Her eyes were reddening.
Mr. Shale reached out and took her arm. He pulled her next to
him, putting one arm around her shoulder, pushing her knees down with the other. He
looked at her cunt. Her pubic hair was light blonde and sparse. Claire began to cry.
Mr. Shale hugged her, shushed her, and whispered, "Nothing bad is going to happen to
you, Claire."
He ran his left hand along her waist, gently caressing her
small ass. When her sniffling lessened, he kissed her forehead, then gently eased her
head down to his lap. "Have you ever done this before?" he asked.
She only shook her head. She didn't do anything for a while,
as though she were trying to decide just what to do first or what it was possible to
do. Then she kissed - ever so slightly - the underside of Jack's cock. Then again, a
little bit higher. Again. She looked up at him, a frightened questioning in her eyes.
"You're doing fine, baby, just keep going. Use your tongue,
too, and your whole mouth."
Claire turned her body around so that she was kneeling on the
seat, her small breasts hanging ever so gently from her chest, her left hand on the
back of the seat, her right on the seat between his legs. She ran her tongue along the
underside of his cock, up, up, to the mushroom cap, sending a shiver up Jack's spine.
She opened her mouth and slid his cock along her tongue until it disappeared into the
warm confines of that orifice.
Claire sucked Mr. Shale's cock for a while, moving her mouth
up and down his shaft on her own, almost as though she was getting into it. Mr. Shale
did not fall for the illusion, though. He knew what was happening. This was the moment
when the girl felt that the solution to her problem was easy. Suck his dick and then
go home and shower and rinse out your mouth and tell your mom or whoever. Sucking dick
isn't very hard, nor too traumatic, really. She was excited that it was so easy. She
was not enjoying it.
Mr. Shale had read so many stories on the Internet about girls
being raped 'so well' that they enjoyed it. Even that fighter he'd forced to cum did
not enjoy her orgasm. He'd only done one girl who enjoyed it, but she'd been willing
from the start. She had been a real slut, probably turned into that by a lascivious
father. Mr. Shale had fixed her. When she went home, she hated the very thought of sex.
No, girls don't enjoy the experience.
At least, not girls like Claire. Good girls.
Innocent girls.
Mr. Shale was gently guiding her head with his hand. He had
begun to press a bit harder so that whenever she went down, she went too far down and
gagged a bit. Saliva and pre-cum were making a mess of her face and his cock. He liked
to see a messy face like that. She was beautiful. He finally pulled her up, all the way
up, his cock slipping out of her mouth. Strings of sticky saliva bridged the cap between
her mouth and his prick. When they broke, they fell down her chin and neck.
Mr. Shale had seen movies and read stories where men would
kiss a girl on the lips at this point, sharing the sticky mess with her. He'd even
seen men taste their own semen from a girl's mouth or off of some other part of her
body. Jack Shale would not do this, however. Not because he despised the taste - for
he'd consumed many other things whose taste disgusted him. Rather because the base
fluids of the body were not his drink. It was her position that required the drinking
and wearing of the sticky mess; his only to eject it from his body.
It was their roles that dictated such. Man and girl. Adult
and child. Violator and victim.
Mr. Shale positioned the obedient girl where he wanted
her - on
her knees and facing the back of the seat, her head crooked in the small space between the
back window and where the seat became a horizontal shelf-space. He knelt behind her,
pressing the side of his shaft against her tiny little butt, sliding it up and down
the virgin crevice. He looked out the back window as he leaned over her shoulder,
pulling her long hair back away from her face. No one was coming. No one would come.
That is why he chose this spot of all others for these moments.
Jack kissed Claire's ear, then her shoulder, then he slipped
his cock down under his ass, finding the other virgin crevice. He pressed his cock into
her pussy, feeling it spread under the pressure. She was warm, slightly wet. It was not
arousal, however, but her body's natural reaction. She wasn't soaked with lubrication,
a whore. She was only moist, not terrified enough to be bone dry, for she believed that
when he was done, she would go home and her life would be normal again.
She had been quiet until the head of Jack's cock struggled
against her hymen. As he tore through it, she let out a gasp and a sob. But Mr. Shale
was gentle. He continued his upward thrust until he had buried himself into her to the
hilt. He held her left shoulder with his left hand, and reached around to grasp her
apple-sized right tit with the other. He pulled out slowly, then pushed forward again.
She moaned a little. He repeated the thrust, over and over.
Eventually she was quiet again, the pain having subsided. Now
was only the uncomfortable rubbing of his cock against the lips of her cunt.
Soon, Mr. Shale knew, she would be unable to help but to cum.
It would be okay if she did, though, because it was natural now. She still wouldn't
like the experience, that was for sure, but her body - not traumatized by a brutal
physical rape - would have to respond to his manipulation of her clit as he fucked
her. It would not make her a slut.
Mr. Shale began to speed up his motions and make them harder.
His pelvis slapped against her hard ass and he could see it growing red with the abuse.
Jack pulled out of her and quickly put her down on her back, her head resting
uncomfortably against the passenger side door. He found her box again and slipped
inside of her. As he fucked her furiously, she began making tiny squeaks as sensations
beyond her understanding filled her. Mr. Shale bent down and took her left nipple in
his mouth, gently sucking and licking the pale protuberance.
Jack could feel his balls tightening. He thrust devastatingly
hard a few times, then pulled out and moved forward, shoving his cock into her mouth.
Claire sucked his prick and held the base with one hand. He batted it away as the first
stream of cum splashed into her sucking mouth. He pulled out during the second, his
jism dripping down her lower lip and chin, drooling to her throat. The third blast
slapped her across her face, up her nose, on her forehead, and in her blonde hair.
Claire had closed her mouth as a reflex to having the bitter
cum on her tongue, but he pushed the head of his cock against her tightly sealed lips,
letting two more streams splash as they erupted from his balls and hit her lips. The
spunk splattered her cheeks, her lips, gathered in her ears, dripping its way into her
hair on either side of her face.
Mr. Shale got off of her and sat back against the other door.
She looked at him, the questioning in her eyes again. He knew her so well. "Go ahead
and swallow it."
He watched her throat muscles work. Twice. She just lay there
then, unable to move of her own volition. She was like a pet suddenly thrown into the
wild, unsure of how to act now that it was free. For the first time since getting into
the backseat, Mr. Shale was not telling her or making her do something. Should she sit
up? Stay there? Speak? Remain silent?
Jack Shale knew each question as she thought it. He understood
so perfectly the precariousness of her situation. So close to being free for good,
finished with the bad man in the car, yet seemingly so far away as the path to safety
was hidden from her. Mr. Shale watched Claire for some time, enjoying the way his cum
ran down her face, over her upper lip, into her mouth. Or from her teeth down onto her
lower lip, down her chin, dripping down to her neck. From her cheek to her ear or her
hair.
"You can sit up," Mr. Shale said finally. "You're almost
done."
She sat up. "W-what else?" she stammered, fearful of a
punishment for speaking out.
"When I'm able again, I desire to make use of your ass. It's
a very nice ass and is sure to feel wonderfully tight around my cock."
"I'm afraid," Claire said, her face turned away from Jack
Shale, "that I simply cannot wait for you to be 'able again'."
Claire's tone was suddenly so different, Jack put his hand on
her shoulder and demanded: "What?"
She took hold of his hand with her own, slowly turning her
head back to face him. What he saw only had time to register on the unconscious level
of his mind. Had he had the opportunity to remember that moment, he would have
remembered her face: her blue eyes dripping blood red; her semen-covered face now as
pale as the cum she wore; her mouth snarling with twin fangs, semen or saliva hanging
from them in glistening strings. He also would have remembered losing all bladder
control and pissing all over his backseat.
He never did get a moment to remember that one, though, for
her small hand had gripped his with a strength unparalleled in a vise while her other
hand grabbed him by his throat, fingers suddenly long and supple enough to hold his
neck securely. Her fluid motion at one and the same time broke the hand on her
shoulder then quickly smashed his head into the window by her side, shattering the
glass and the bones in his face.
Mr. Shale probably died on impact, his nose bone being shoved
into his brain, but sometimes I like to think he was still alive when Claire pulled him
back into the car and began the long process of draining him of all body fluids,
beginning with the blood issuing from his face, and ending with the tart juice of his
slowly rotting testicles.
For it was her role, as vampire, to consume the fluids of her
victims. And their role to bleed so obediently for her. She left Mr. Shale a dry husk
in his car, returned her clothes to her body, and walked home. It was a long stretch
of Highway 3 and there were no cars to offer her assistance.
That was why she always brought her victims there.
The End
[MD at daddy6669@hotmail.com]
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